


A Soft Place to Land (The Third-Degree Remix)

by dirigibleplumbing



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: First Kiss, Getting Together, Gift Giving, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Reconciliation, Romantic Gestures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29033838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirigibleplumbing/pseuds/dirigibleplumbing
Summary: Steve's injured during a solo mission. He doesn't call Tony, but Tony shows up anyway. Now all Steve has to do is find a way to convince Tony that he cares about him.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 24
Kudos: 89
Collections: 2021 Captain America/Iron Man Remix Relay





	A Soft Place to Land (The Third-Degree Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [de-pendant on you (the sweetener remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28588569) by [starksnack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starksnack/pseuds/starksnack). 



With a garbage can lid or a prop as your shield, you feel it when someone hits you. The impact of the blow is distributed, but all the force is still there, exploding across your arm, into your shoulder and chest; Tony could explain how it worked, all the equations behind it, the tensile strength of the metals, the alloys involved, the angles and tangents. 

Tony’s here, now. Steve can hear him speaking softly on his phone. He can hear the person on the other end, too: it’s Pepper. Tony could be on the phone with Ross, could be telling him, _I have him, he’s injured, barely conscious, we’re in Madripoor_. But he isn’t. He’s telling Pepper how the manufacturing will work for the modular homes he’s designed. She thinks he’s calling from Malibu. Projections and past data have already been compiled and typed up, Steve knows, because they keep referring to page numbers and paragraphs and diagrams. They’re reviewing the proposed launch timeline on page 24 when Tony notices that Steve’s awake. 

His eyes slide away from Steve’s, landing on the wall behind Steve’s bed. He tilts his head so his sunglasses catch the light and the rosy glass turns to a glare of impenetrable white. He uncrosses his legs, crosses them the opposite direction, wriggles his hips, crosses his legs back the way they were. “Hey Pep, y’know what, my lunch date is here, can I call you back in a couple hours? Okay, four and three-quarters hours, how’s that? Yeah. Yeah. You too. I will. Bye.” 

There’s this move Steve practices with the shield where he holds it in exactly the same place, like it’s stationary, fixed to some invisible point, even as the rest of his body keeps moving. This is what he does now with his eyes as he shifts in the bed and untangles himself from the sheets: they’re locked on Tony, motionless while the rest of him shifts. 

He tries to shut down the part of his brain that’s cycling _lunch date, lunch date, lunch date_. Tony didn’t mean anything by it. It’s nearly midday in Malibu, not here. Here it’s late evening, the sinking sun still bright with summer. 

Tony sits by the window, posture meticulously at ease, in the middle of a sunbeam that spills over the hotel carpet through sheer linen curtains. If he concentrates, Steve can hear the sounds of the street outside. If he doesn’t, he can hear Tony—Tony’s breathing, his heartbeat, the small sound he makes in the back of his throat. 

“How are you?” Tony asks at last, lifting his chin and angling his face so he has a better view of Steve. 

“What are you doing here, Tony?” Steve's voice sounds clearer than his head feels. Whatever hit he took, it must’ve been a big one, for him to still feel it like this.

“What am—you had third-degree burns covering—” 

“You can’t be found here, if someone—” 

“Oh, well that’s okay then!” Tony throws up his hands. He’s facing Steve now, backlit by the sun. Steve takes it as a small victory that Tony’s eyes are visible again through his glasses. “If I’m caught—because obviously, I didn’t take any precautions, right, that’s me, just barreling in and showing off—I might get sent to the principal’s office, so, too bad, I guess I should’ve just left you in a burning warehouse to die.” 

Steve could ask how Tony knew he was hurt, how he knew where to look, how he was able to arrive in time. He knows Tony won’t answer. “I—you didn’t have to come yourself.” 

Tony glares, but the air goes out of his sails. His voice is low and steady when he says, “Yeah. I did.” 

“I would’ve healed. You’re not obligated—” 

“Yeah,” Tony scoffs. “ _Obligated_. That’s it exactly, Cap. You know me so well. Jesus, did you even tell anyone you were going on this mission? You didn’t, did you? Is it—” he cuts himself off. “Look. I know I—fucked up. It’s been, it’s been shitty, you’re on the run, and that’s on me, so, you can just—tell me what you need and I’ll get it for you. Or get you the money for it. I mean, I can’t get you back into the States, I’m working on it, but I know people out here. Don’t—you can’t just—” 

“It’s not for you to fix,” Steve snaps. Tony always does this, offering too much even as he steps back, makes it impersonal. He’ll spend hundreds of thousands—often _millions—_ of dollars to make himself feel better, and you can’t say no, can’t be ungrateful, not when he’s given _so much_. “What are you doing here Tony? What do you want?” 

“What do I—right. I must have some ulterior motive for not wanting you to die. I don’t know why—I’ll just go, shall I?” 

“No,” Steve says, panicking, before he realizes that Tony’s made no move to leave, or even stand up. “I—can we start over?” 

Tony makes that single, sardonic, not quite laughing sound he does when he pretends not to care what people think of him. “How far back you wanna go, Cap?” 

_Far enough back that you never look at me like you think I’m going to hurt you_ , Steve doesn’t say. Instead, he slowly draws himself up, musters a smile, and says, “Hi, Tony. It’s good to see you. Thanks for coming out here to help.” 

“But?” Tony prompts.

“What?” 

“‘Thank you for coming, _but’_ …?” 

“Okay, yeah: _but_ I didn’t need you to come all the way out here yourself, I could’ve—” 

“Fine, right, I get it, you’re Captain America, you can do whatever you want, how dare I interfere. Did it occur to you, Rogers, that I _wanted_ to see you? That I give a fuck whether you literally die in a fire? Shows what I know. My mistake, so if you’ll excuse me, I believe I was trying to make my exit—” 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Steve says quickly. 

Tony doesn’t roll his eyes, but he makes it clear that he’s thinking about it. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea” —Tony barks his not-laugh again— “but—but I’m really glad you’re here.” 

Tony stills. It’s like the rough waters of a lake smoothing out all at once when the wind stops. “Well. Then. Good.” 

Steve wishes, not for the first time, that they weren’t like this. “I was surprised. To see you.” Surprised, shocked, awed, worried he was dreaming. Surprised is close enough. “I didn’t think you wanted to be anywhere near me.” 

Tony’s expression darkens, and already Steve regrets what he said, not that he knows what’s wrong with it this time. “Right, because—” 

“Tony,” Steve says, raising his voice. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he goes on, more quietly, speaking carefully and over-enunciating as a result. “You have every reason to not want to see me. To be angry with me.” 

“Yeah, I do. But I still don’t—I couldn’t, I can’t sit there and do nothing.” 

_If I see a situation pointed south, I can't ignore it. Sometimes I wish I could._

_No, you don’t._

“I know," Steve says.

Tony looks skeptical, but nods. 

“I meant it, you know. If you need me—” 

“You’ll what? You’ll what, Steve? Take your invisible jet out to give me a hand? Teleport over?” 

Hearing Tony say his name shouldn’t feel like such a big win, but Steve savors it. “I’ll be there.” 

“You can’t just—say it and then it’s true—” 

“I mean it.” 

“Yeah, you always mean it, Cap. When you say it,” Tony says, and Steve knows the hurt is showing on his face, knows he’s giving everything away, but Tony doesn’t notice. Of course he doesn’t. He’s avoiding Steve’s eyes. 

“Then how do I show you?” Steve asks. _How do I make it up to you? How do I get you back?_ But Tony’s never been his. 

Tony’s eyes flicker across Steve’s face. “This isn’t the kind of thing you can just decide you want to be better and then it is.” 

“That’s it then? I just—we’ll never work together again?” 

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Tony says quickly, annoyed and earnest at once. “I—if you want me there—if you really want to make it better—” He cuts himself off, rubbing a hand over his face. 

“If I want to make it better, what?” 

Tony shakes his head. “Then find a way to not have tried to kill me.” 

Steve doesn’t have a shield. Not even a garbage can lid. He’s not braced for it. All he can do is take the blow. “That’s not what happened,” he says weakly. 

“What, because now you feel bad? Because now I’m here and you have to deal with me?” 

“I was trying to stop you. That’s all. I swear.” 

“That’s all,” Tony repeats, bitterness filling his voice. “Yeah.” 

“Tony—” 

“Whatever. I wanted to see you, and now I have, so,” he starts to stand. 

Without thinking—because when does he ever stop and think—Steve surges to his feet, stepping to block Tony’s path. The room spins. He gropes behind him for the bed and falls back onto it. 

“Shit.” Tony’s voice comes from very close by. 

Steve opens his eyes. Tony has a hand on his shoulder, steadying him. 

“You’re still healing,” Tony says. The _You’re an idiot_ part is implied. 

“What should I have done instead?” 

The way Tony meets his gaze leaves Steve no doubt that Tony knows he doesn’t mean just now. “You could’ve told me the truth. You know, before a bad guy blindsided me with a video of my mom being murdered.” 

“But right then,” Steve says, forcing his voice steady, “how could I have stopped you?” 

Tony’s eyes have an amber cast to them in the twilight. His lip curls. “Yeah, you’re right, I guess the only option _was_ to beat me to within—” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Tony stops talking. Steve can barely hold himself still. He forces sincerity into every line of his body. 

“So you do know the word,” Tony says after a moment. He says it lightly, like Steve’s apologizing for using his favorite mug without asking. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry I left you there.” 

“Yeah, well, I don’t think I’d have appreciated your company just then.” 

“I still should’ve stayed.” 

“What do you want, Steve?” Tony sinks back into his seat, though he turns it so he’s facing Steve directly now. “Because I can’t just forget what happened.” 

“I don’t expect you to.” 

“What do you want?” he says again. 

Steve’s jaw clenches. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“Sure it does.” 

“I want. I just. I care about you, alright, and I, I always say the wrong thing, and do the wrong thing, and now I’ve done the worst, and—” 

“You want me to believe you care,” Tony says, face blank, voice perfectly neutral. 

“Yeah.” Steve swallows. “I guess so.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

Tony shrugs. “Okay. I’m here. Go for it. Convince me.” 

As usual, Steve has to take a moment to catch up. He frowns, blinking dumbly. Tony wants him to—convince him that he cares? That he’s sorry? That he doesn’t want Tony to go? Tony will still have to leave. It’s not like he can stay here indefinitely. 

But he came here. Steve can figure this out. Tony came out here, risking his own freedom and reputation, to make sure Steve was safe. He’s angry, of course he’s angry, but he wanted to see Steve. Steve needs to find the right thing to say, for once, or when Tony leaves this time, Steve will never see him again. 

Steve rests his hand over his dog tags, his fingers curling around the metal. Tony wants a reason to believe him, Steve wants to show Tony what he means to him, and this will have to do. It’s too revealing, but—it’s all he has. 

He’s prepared for the dizziness when he stands this time, taking slow breaths. He pulls the chain over his head and carefully, slowly, telegraphing his movements, steps forward and places it around Tony’s neck. Tony’s grip on the arm of his chair has gone white-knuckled. He searches Steve’s face, but Steve doesn’t know what he’s looking for. 

“I—I’d like you to hold onto these for me,” Steve says. “And—know that I’m thinking about you. I know I’m—I know you don’t think about me the same way, but—” 

“What,” Tony says, eyes going wide, panic in his voice. “The same—fuck.”

“I know it’s not what you wanted, it doesn’t change what happened, but, now you—at least you know I don’t want to hurt you, right?” 

Steve knows he's not a subtle person. He doesn't dare say it out loud— _Let me love you, let me be with you, I'm never leaving you again, let me make you mine_ —but he may as well have. 

Steve’s prepared for a blow this time. He imagines the weight of his shield—the one he left behind when he left Tony behind. He’s made himself vulnerable to an attack, but he’s ready. Whatever fury, indignation, or derision is coming, Steve’s braced for it. 

Tony stares at him for a beat. Then his eyes drop to Steve’s lips, and before Steve can make sense of that, Tony has surged to his feet to kiss him. 

Steve’s gasp turns into a whine, and then into Tony chuckling against his lips. Steve hurries to kiss back, realization surging against him like a hit that doesn’t land—like a strike against vibranium, the force of it absorbed into the resonance of the metal. 

“I’m keeping these,” Tony says, mouth wet from Steve’s tongue. “It’s okay to shower with these, right? Nope, don’t answer that, I’m going to anyway, I’m not taking these off for the rest of my life, you want ‘em back, you get ‘em off my corpse.” 

“That’s exactly how they’re supposed to work.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [game over [REMIX]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28786422) by [wingheads](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingheads/pseuds/wingheads)




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